


The Electric Cat Planet, or, A Day in the Life of Leonard McCoy

by screamlet



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, Slice of Life, happy birthday zlot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-24
Updated: 2010-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/pseuds/screamlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One ridiculous day in the life of Leonard McCoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Electric Cat Planet, or, A Day in the Life of Leonard McCoy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zlot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zlot/gifts).



> For zlot on her 24th birthday. And many thanks to everyone who had to hear about this for the past fuck only knows (like waldorph, leupagus, and bogged, and omg so many.)
> 
> The electric cats have surfaced twice in [other](http://screamlet.livejournal.com/5570.html#cutid1) [shit](http://screamlet.livejournal.com/12855.html?thread=668727#t668727) I've written, and the birthday girl wanted their story and McCoy, so here we are.

McCoy has been sitting in his office for exactly two minutes when Kirk storms in and slams his hands on the desk.

"I want to kill Spock and make it look like an accident," he says.

McCoy raises an eyebrow but doesn't look up from his PADD. "Okay, but remember, if you're looking to the chain of command for your next spouse, that ain't me." He looks at Kirk and clarifies, "That's Scotty. Remember that."

"Look," Kirk pleads. "We have this arrangement, right -- okay, usually I have Alpha shift four times a week and he has it three, and every two weeks -- _whatever_, the point is I was denied my 'sorry it's Alpha shift and you have to leave your Vulcan space heater at six in the fucking morning' blowjob this morning over a pair of fucking socks."

"How can you simultaneously give me too much information and not enough?" McCoy asks.

"He like, leans over, right, and his mouth is --"

"Skip to the socks."

"-- Like, almost _on me_, and then he's like, wait, I can't see over the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, enjoy your shift, sweetheart."

"Spock would never, ever call you 'sweetheart'," McCoy says. "Just for the record. And the day he does, send him over because he's probably been infected by something."

"Bones," Kirk whines. "What the _fuck_!"

"Either clean up your damn clothes and get a blowjob tonight or act out like you're nine and never have crazy Vulcan sex again."

"Well no shit, _Doctor_," Kirk replies. "I'll see you later."

He leaves and McCoy reads one more line of his report before Chapel walks in with a cup of coffee.

"The hell, Christine?" he asks. "You don't have to bring me coffee." He pauses and adds, "As you know, because you've never brought me coffee. What the --"

"Actually, today is the start of a new policy I'm instating among the Alpha shift staff here at Chez McCoy," she replies as she sets the cup down and pushes over a few sugars but no milk, which is the complete opposite of how he takes his coffee. "I've noticed that you're completely addicted, if not to caffeine, then to the experience of having a cup of coffee every morning; however, you're too busy most mornings to do yourself the favor of getting a cup until you've made someone cry."

"Which you wouldn't know about if those ensigns would buck up and stop running to you like you're their mother," he grumbles.

"Is it the blonde hair that gives them the impression I care? I may have to color it," Chapel considers. "_Anyway._ So you will get your cup of coffee every morning, and you'll drink it, and _I_ will rest at ease knowing if the ensigns cry, it's because you caught them being idiots on the job, rather than because they have eyes like your ex-wife."

"… thank you?" McCoy offers.

"You're _welcome_, Doctor," she replies, and offers him a sweet smile that he knows is laced with at least ninety kinds of bitchiness.

After that, he has peace and quiet for five whole minutes, which he celebrates with a sip of his totally wrong but still warm coffee and a moment alone.

*

Riding his post-coffee optimism, McCoy begins rounds on the patients in sickbay with Chapel's underling, Malviya (her first name is Kalpana and she's competent, sure, but she hasn't earned first name privileges yet.)

"Ah, Campbell," McCoy announces when he reaches a familiar crewman's bed. "Where have you phasered yourself this time?"

"Kitchen cutlery wound," Malviya supplies. "Wound treated, overnight for observation due to previous history of infection."

McCoy raises an eyebrow at her and says, "'Previous history of infection'? Really, Lieutenant? Be a little more specific. If he _didn't_ have a previous history of infection, we'd be harvesting his body ASAP."

"I meant the crewman is prone to infections," she replies, "as evidenced in his friendly fire phaser wounds of 2258.341 and 2260.67, the packaging wounds of 2259.19, 2259.94, 2259.128 -- and so forth."

"The hell?" McCoy asks. He snatches the PADD from her hands and looks it over, his eyebrow liable to climb off his face at the absurdity of this crewman's injuries. "All right, he's prone to injuries and subsequent infections." He hands the PADD back to Malviya. "Here's what's going to happen: he stays here for the remainder of Alpha shift and thinks very long and hard about how to avoid future bouts of clumsiness --"

"The spoon --"

"And _you_ will try and figure out what's in our sickbay that leads him to get sicker once he's been in here." McCoy looks at Campbell

and says, "Now's the time to admit you cut your tongue on a spoon to get something else looked at -- maybe a particularly fun shore leave that you haven't been able to shake yet?"

Campbell flushes a bright, bright red and McCoy actually grins. "Here we go, something our basic antibiotics suppress but don't cure! Research fun for the whole Enterprise family! Get cracking, Malviya -- take some samples now that you know what you're looking for and send some over to the non-meds for cataloging and analysis and all that fun stuff."

The other patients in sickbay have the usual post-planetside injuries: mending bones from clumsiness on a new terrain, one ensign who was pummeled by an indigenous creature on the planet (four-foot flying squirrel _what_), and one usual suspect who is less of an irresponsible ass than Campbell and, therefore, gets a genuine smile out of McCoy.

The whole 'casually dating' thing they're doing also helps ease how much she grates on his nerves.

"Lerea Lerea Lerea," McCoy announces as he approaches her bed.

"Does your repeating my name two additional times have a Standard connotation I am unaware of, or is it something unique to your behavioral patterns, Doctor?" she asks, the points of her eyebrows twitching upwards ever so slightly.

"Unique to me, I'm afraid," he replies, and he sneaks a smirk at her as he looks over her file.

"Then I will add it to my mental catalogue of your individual quirks," she replies. "It is quite extensive at this point. Vulcan healers attempt to suppress their individuality while attending patients and fulfill their roles completely, as to better utilize their mental conditioning."

"I can do that too, well enough, but then we wouldn't have this excellent rapport, now would we?"

"I suppose not."

He takes the PADD from Malviya and asks Lerea, "So how are you doing?" McCoy looks at her as she considers the question.

"My heart rate was elevated at approximately 0230 hours…" She stops when McCoy flips around the PADD with that information on it. "I see."

"Stick to telling me what you felt overnight. Same blocked sinuses, inner eyelid irritation? That in particular is looking much better today."

"Yes, I was able to regain full use of it at approximately 0615 hours, though my sinuses still remain completely blocked."

"You make my job so easy," McCoy sighs. "Anyway, our tests in conjunction with the botanists' first reports suggest we've isolated this new allergen that closed down your _sensitive_ Vulcan sinuses when you were exposed to that sample from the planet. We'll have a compound for you later in the day, and you should be okay for Gamma shift."

"And my supervisor has submitted work to occupy me for the morning," Lerea replies with something McCoy could call… relief…?

"Good good, can't let you just sit there going to waste," McCoy says as he makes notes on the PADD and hands it off to Malviya. "And remember to moisturize your lips -- they're looking chapped from your mouthbreathing." He turns to Malviya and asks, "We've got to have some balm around here that isn't offensively colored or scented, don't we?"

"Captain's stash," she replies.

"No, it's not _the captain's stash_ just because he licks his lips _bleeding_ every hour on the hour and uses it the most. Get her a stick."

"Dr. McCoy," Uhura's voice called out through sickbay. "Bridge to McCoy."

He heads over to the wall unit and sees Uhura waiting for him on the screen. "Morning, Lieutenant."

"Good morning. I have your daughter waiting to speak to you -- should I patch her through to your office?"

"Please do," he replies, and tries to suppress showing any of the panic or excitement he feels at the chance to talk to his daughter. "Malviya!" he calls out as he heads into his office. "Get Simmons to finish rounds with you."

*

McCoy falls into his desk chair and activates the screen rising up out of one corner of his desk. There's Uhura again, who looks a little worried herself. "Everything all right with you?" he asks as he watches her tap the screens on her console.

"I just hope everything's all right," she replies.

"Sweet of you, I'm sure it is," he replies. "You know. In that existential way."

"Signal's coming through now," and Uhura's picture shrinks until it disappears and is replaced by his daughter's face. She's been crying.

"Jo, what's wrong? I'm here, okay?"

"But you're _not_," she whimpers. "Sorry, sorry. Hi, Dad, how are you?"

"Don't give me that. Come on, out with it. What happened?"

"It's such a _not_ big deal, but ugh, Mom is just. She just doesn't." She looks away and wipes her eyes. McCoy leans on his hand and tries to get closer to the screen. "She's just _not you_, and I love Mom, you know I do, I love her so much, but oh my God, sometimes she's just not you."

And that's the kind of heartbreaking observation a nine-year-old comes up with to break her father's heart from a billion miles away.

"Okay, what happened?" he asks.

"It's _Sunday_, Dad, what do you _think_?" she asks. "I always, always ask her if she wants to come bike riding with me, like I do every Sunday, and today, she asked me where I _go_ every Sunday that's so important I have to go _every_ Sunday, and then she said if I stay in, she'd take me to the mall later, and I told her that's not the point, it's just, you know, going out and riding, and she just shrugged."

"Shrugged?"

"She _shrugged_, Dad, she just _shrugged_ and let me go, and it's like she doesn't _care_ \--"

"She does care -- anyway, do you really want her coming with you?"

"Not _all_ the time, and not when you're here, but just once! Would that be _so_ much work for her?"

"She probably thinks you're only asking to be polite, or maybe that you actually want me there so you're --"

"Well _duh_, Dad, no shit," and he lets it slide because she cringed a little once she realized she'd said it. "I'd like to go out and do something with _a parent_ for once. Just. Why aren't you _here_?"

For fuck's sake, it is too fucking early for this fucking conversation, which will leave him completely drained of sympathy for anyone for the rest of the day and result in a three-whiskey dinner tonight.

"I'm sorry, Jo," he says. "I wish I could be there, I do."

"Are you at least -- like, is the Enterprise coming to spacedock anytime soon? I know you guys have to for really big repairs and -- or to a starbase --"

And the technology makes it hurt all the worse, McCoy realizes. The fact that he is _so_ stupidly far away but able to see every red blotch on Joanna's face in perfect clarity and hear every hiccup as she thinks of ways to see him -- it's the worst of both possible worlds.

"Darling, I'm not going to blow up the Enterprise just to see you, though I love you to death, all right?"

She laughs a little and he urges her to smile.

"You have two years left on the Enterprise, right?" she asks.

"Two and change. We won't have a definite date for a while. A long while."

"Have you thought about… staying on Earth when you're done?" She doesn't meet the screen as she speaks, looks at her hands instead, and he wonders if she would -- no, of course she would be asking him to stay even if she hadn't argued with her mother, he's her _father_. "I'll be going to middle school then and then I could go to a different school, you know, one in San Francisco, and maybe…"

"We can talk about this then, all right?"

"Okay, so," and just like her mother, she's gearing up for something that's going to cut him to the quick and hurt more than he'll ever let her know. "I don't know when I'll see you again, I don't know if you're ever going to be in one place for more than six months, and I -- that's not good enough, Dad, okay, that _sucks_."

"I know --"

"No, you _don't_." She pushes her hair over one ear and reluctantly looks at him on the screen for a split second before looking down at her hands again. "I gotta go, okay? I have homework. Bye. Love you. Say hi to Jim and _your girlfriend_."

The screen blinks a 'transmission ended' message before switching off. McCoy takes a deep breath and leaves his office. He spots Malviya and Simmons across the way and picks up rounds where he left off.

*

Soon after McCoy finishes rounds, Spock comes in and clears his throat to divert McCoy's attention from a conversation he's having with a nurse. McCoy leads him to his office and leans against his desk, waiting for Spock to speak.

"I returned to the quarters I share with Jim and noted that he has picked up all his clothing after you spoke with him this morning. I would like to know what you told him so that I may repeat the process for similar results."

"Knowing Jim, it's not any newfound responsibility or consideration for your preferences when it comes to tidiness..."

"Then where have his clothes gone?" Spock asks.

"He's probably wearing them."

"All of them?"

"Check the bridge and if he looks a little chunky, then yeah. He's wearing everything you both own."

"And what is the reasoning behind this behavior?"

"He's _fucking with you_, Spock," McCoy sighs.

It's a testament to Spock that he's able to hear that, accept it, thank McCoy for his time, and head back to the bridge, probably to disembowel Kirk lovingly and patiently.

*

Once things slow down in sickbay and nothing but paperwork awaits him, McCoy heads up to the bridge, leaving everything in Chapel's hands. The turbolift slides open and twenty heads turn around to glance at him. Kirk swivels around in his chair, legs crossed and fingers tapping on the armrests, and gives him a wide grin that McCoy can't quite reciprocate after the conversation with Joanna.

He steps over and takes his place at the left of the captain's chair, and then looks down at Kirk, who's smiling a little softer now and raising his eyebrows at him.

"Spock make you put all your clothes back?" McCoy asks.

"Actually, it was getting really warm with fifteen layers of pants and shirts," Kirk replies. "I turned the temperature down and was about to do it again when Uhura threatened to -- what was it again?"

"Burn the clothes off you, Captain," she calls back.

"Yeah, I don't think the crew appreciates the kinds of sacrifices you make for them," McCoy replies.

"How's Jo?" Kirk asks.

"Tell you later," McCoy says.

"Summarize it?"

"You're such a gossip."

"Hey! What! I love that kid, you know that. I'm totally her favorite fake uncle."

"Remember when I got her to call you Auntie Jamie for a whole week?"

Kirk groans and adds, "And you know she --"

"Still addresses all holiday cards to Auntie Jamie, which is a gift that keeps on giving. To me." McCoy grins a little and tells him, "Just misses me, that's all." He looks down at Kirk's chair and asks, "What do you recommend, space brat?"

"Not dying should be first," Kirk muses. "Also, don't marry an asshole. 's all I've got." Kirk sways from side to side in his chair a little more and asks, "Wanna know where we're going?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought we were going -- boldly, of course -- where --"

"Wow, I hate you and one of these days, I'm getting some engineers up here to play with the metal and make it into an anagram. Like…" Kirk spins a little, squints at the plaque with their mission statement (the words of the legendary Captain Archer: _to boldly go where no man has gone before_), and says, "Demonstrable genealogy…"

"_Demonstrable genealogy_?"

"Shit, Bones, how many hours do you think I spend in this chair thinking about that plaque and staring into the vacuum of space? Demonstrable genealogy. Working on the rest."

They're quiet for a moment or two and McCoy asks, "So where are we going?"

"_Finally_, but now you've said it too loud so you're going to have to wait for the official --"

"Shut up and tell me."

"Insubordination!

"I'll insubordinate you."

"Promise?"

"Captain," Spock interrupts. "We will be entering Lynx 4's orbit in approximately 45 minutes. Now would be an apt time to debrief in the conference room."

"So jealous," Kirk mutters to McCoy. "Sounds good -- Uhura, start rounding up the usual suspects to sub for us while I call up the rest of the gang." He flicks a switch on his left arm rest, glances at McCoy and grins (because it's been three years but the novelty -- no, the pure fucking _joy_ \-- of the job is still in everything Jim does), and speaks clearly.

"Attention: this is the captain. I ask that senior officers report to --" and he glances over his shoulder to Uhura, who holds up three fingers, "Conference Room 3 immediately for a debriefing meeting. See you soon, kiddies."

McCoy and Kirk both turn to Spock's station. He never fails to disappoint and has one eyebrow up high enough for both of them.

"Mr. Spock?" Kirk asks.

"'Kiddies'?" he asks.

"A Standard colloquial diminutive," Kirk replies. "Unrelated to k-i-t-t-i-e-s, though now that I've made that connection…"

"Weren't we going somewhere? Something about a mission…?" McCoy asks as the replacements begin to filter onto the bridge.

"Sure, kitten," Kirk replies. "This is going to be _fun_."

*

"We're going to a _cat planet_?" McCoy asks. "In the _Lynx_ system? What six-year-old girl mapped and named this system?"

"31 Lyncis has had feline attributes on your planet for thousands of years," Spock informs him, eyes on his PADD. "However, its position in the Vulcan sky had astronomers there designate it as part of the…" He pauses for a moment, and then says, "Elephant."

"You had an elephant constellation?" Kirk asks, leaning on his hand and looking every inch the man who has just fallen in love all over again. McCoy looks around the table and the other officers are too busy skimming the infodump on their PADDs to notice the hideous flirtation.

"'Elephant' is an approximate translation," Spock replies. "I will draw one for you later."

"Captain," Commander Engels interrupts, "I can begin the background on Abby when you're ready."

"On who?" McCoy asks.

"Go ahead, Commander. Blow us away," Kirk says.

"The following information can be found on page three of the debriefing presentation," Engels announces. "This mission is primarily an exploration mission of the planet known as Lynx 4, more commonly known as 'Abby'. The five planets in this system orbit the star 31 Lyncis, and only Lynx 4's orbit is distant enough from the orange giant for carbon-based life."

"Thanks, Commander," Kirk interrupts. "Can you tell us more about what the away team may encounter on the surface?"

"Our information on lifeforms is, at present, limited, but initial scans show no humanoid species. The dominant species appear to be mostly feline in their characteristics -- something I believe Dr. McCoy already referred to earlier."

"So the cat planet in the cat system is full of cats. Got it," Kirk says.

"Commander, you have not addressed the energy anomaly you submitted to me earlier this shift," Spock notes.

"Oh, of course," Engels says. "In scanning the planet's surface, we noted the constant presence of electricity all over the planet -- significantly higher than on Earth, yet not of a level dangerous to humanoid life. Scanners weren't able to determine the source or nature of the energy."

There's more talk of predators, the atmosphere, necessary equipment, and Kirk makes the final landing party roster. As they're about to disperse, Scotty raises his hand.

"Damned curious -- why is this planet?" he asks. "Exploring, yes, but it looks like our run-of-the-mill Class M."

Kirk grins and replies, "_Well_, it used to be a luxury retreat in the late 21st century -- it's a really, really gorgeous planet. That's probably the ulterior motive for coming here." He sits up and adds, "All the records of activity on this planet were lost in a viral attack during the 2150s war on Andoria, just before the Federation was founded and records were held in headquarters on Earth. Basically, we're doing a top-to-bottom taxonomy of this system, starting with --"

"Why _Abby_, Jim?" McCoy asks, because Kirk's secret history kink is actually a really boring kink when it comes down to it. "This planet is labeled 'Abby' on some of the charts."

"Oh!" Kirk laughs. "Yeah, she was the wife of the captain that discovered the planet way back when. The grass here is supposed to be the exact color of her hair."

"I fail to see its relevance to the mission at hand, Captain," Spock replies.

"Just for that, I'm not naming shit after you, _Commander_," Kirk says.

Spock raises his eyebrow in a clearly see-if-I-give-a-fuck manner and looks around the table. "If there are no more questions?"

The officers seem to understand the latent _no there are fucking **not**_ in the non-question, and so they disperse to get ready for the away mission.

*

"Yes, you would be part of the away team," Lerea muses in her biobed. McCoy takes his tricorder from Chapel and slips the strap over his head.

"Someone's gotta keep Jim from dying within 30 seconds of arriving," McCoy replies.

"It's so nice to have gotten a medical degree just to preserve your friend from death and destruction," Chapel says, her smile growing wider when McCoy raises his eyebrow. "I'm only saying that it sounds better than 'daddy issues', don't you think?"

"'Daddy issues'?" Lerea asks.

"Don't you infect her with your poison, Chapel!"

"Doctor," she gasps. "I'm a _healer_ above _all_."

"Nurse Chapel, your sense of irony is admirable," Lerea says.

"That sounded like appreciation," Chapel replies, turning her face to McCoy again. "Of course, I could barely tell, having gone so long without --"

"More like irony with sarcastic intonations, but we're splitting hairs here -- dammit, Malviya, I'm not gonna need _every_ compound we have in the damn sickbay!" She skitters away and he shouts after her, "You've only been here _three months_, we've only had how _many_ away missions in that --"

"All right, Doctor, we understand, you can yell the loudest and swear the most and we're _very_ impressed," Chapel sighs. "Didn't the coffee _help_? I was sure --"

"This is common sense," he hisses. "Day one: away team prep. Check --"

"Bones!" Kirk's voice calls out from the wall unit. "What the hell is taking you so damn long? Spock's just gone to the bathroom _again_, we've been waiting so damn long."

"Tell that bastard to stop riding my ass like he's my wife," McCoy growls. He stalks into the storage room, but luckily hears through his frustration:

"Hi there, Captain. Dr. McCoy is strangling a nurse and would like you to stop riding his ass like you're his wife, if you please."

"Did he forget the part where it's my job to metaphorically ride _anyone's_ ass I damn well please, especially when my _chief medical_ \--"

In the back room, Malviya is studying the hypospray canisters and McCoy shouts, "_Really_? Malviya, get over here."

He activates the wall unit in the storage room and pulls up the planet profile. "This is _unacceptable_," he says as he begins highlighting key terms on the screen. "This is what Starfleet should have trained you for -- you're no damn good to me if you can't put a medical kit together at a moment's notice. If you can't do that, then there are a thousand other things you can't do at a moment's notice and I don't know if _you've_ noticed, but our captain is a loose cannon and we're lucky to get a moment most days."

"Sor --"

"Now what the hell am I going to do with an apology? Make a hat out of it? Look." He points at the pie charts on the screen. "Atmospheric composition of the planet in comparison to Earth. Nitrogen, oxygen, and argon are at comparable Earth levels, so we don't need anything for those. Lower pie chart." McCoy glances and says, "Okay, good, just like Earth. Next you look at the particulates in the air -- that's a hell of a high pollen count and Vulcans are particularly sensitive to it --"

"I noticed the surface anomaly and wondered whether there was a compound to counteract --"

"Counteract someone being electrocuted on the surface? You think a _hypospray_ can do that?" McCoy laughs and glances at the pack. "When the captain goes on an away mission, the medic always needs to bring extra general antivenom and antitoxin," he says as he grabs those canisters. "Because Jim is five and thinks everything belongs in his mouth, but they should be in every pack. Also need epinephrine because he's allergic to goddamn everything." He grabs several more canisters, shoves them in the pack, approves its contents, and slips that over his head, too. "Get _someone_ to take you through this. An incompetent nurse isn't a nurse; they're a pain in my ass that gets dropped off at the nearest starbase."

He enters sickbay again and finds Chapel sitting on the edge of Lerea's bed, both of them speaking into a PADD, Chapel much more agitated than Lerea.

"You _have_ to stop bringing cats on board, Captain! My arm is liable to fall off from the antihistamine hypos, and poor Lerea is going to transfer from operations to medical if she spends any more time in sickbay because of her allergies to everything you bring on board."

"You've got some nerve thinking anyone on this ship has been hyposprayed more than me!"

"I have moved up to fourth place," Lerea says. "The doctor has not been very forthcoming with the result should I move into first."

"You get to be besties with him," Kirk replies. "Of course, in your case, you'll probably have to marry him."

"This is why no one's _ever_ getting hyposprayed more than Kirk," Chapel informs her. "Though I'm sure the doctor makes a _wonderful_ boyfriend."

"Doesn't he just?" Kirk says. "He does this thing with his tongue --"

"Tell him I'm on my way," McCoy interrupts. "Chapel, keep it together, will you? And where the fresh hell is M'Benga to relieve me?"

Lerea is looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Your tongue, Doctor? And the captain?"

M'Benga chooses that moment to enter and stare at McCoy in horror.

"It was a _dare_," McCoy says mostly to Lerea. "You'll come with us next shore leave and see how handsy and open to suggestion Jim gets when he's had a few."

"Hands are not tongues," she replies.

"This isn't happening, right?" M'Benga asks. "There has to be something like _medicine_ I can practice instead of being here."

McCoy grabs Lerea's hand for a moment and then leaves sickbay.

"Captain, your 'bestie' is on his way to the transporter room," Chapel says, and then adds loudly, "I said as though I was his _secretary_ and not a woman with _ten years_ of medical --"

"I said keep it together!" McCoy good-naturedly yells from the doorway.

"Spock! Get over here!" Kirk yells out of the PADD. "Is Lerea smirking? I have the only two Vulcans in the universe who _smirk_ on my ship. I want a fucking plaque. Yes, _another one_."

*

Seeing as it was a brand new planet in a brand new system (sort of), a full house beams down in two groups: Kirk, four security guards, and Lieutenant Marigold the geologist, and then McCoy and Spock, Lieutenant Stipe the zoologist, Lieutenant Marquez the climatologist, Lieutenant --

It helps McCoy to take attendance while transporting so he doesn't have to think about how the lieutenant in charge of running the show is the same lieutenant who was handcuffed naked to a gym locker a few weeks back.

Everything goes a little hazy and then clears up again, and McCoy takes a deep breath on the planet's surface once he's all there. He looks around and yes, everyone is there, too.

"We are being watched," Spock announces within four fucking seconds of arriving, just as McCoy is enjoying the sound of grass under his boots and the sensation of a real breeze through his hair.

"Scans said no humanoid life," Kirk replies. "Your tricorder say something different?"

"It is not the tricorder," Spock says slowly. "It is the very real sensation of being watched and observed."

"Anyone else feel that?" Kirk asks.

"Well _now_ I do," McCoy replies as he glances around their surroundings. There's nothing but nature: they chose a clear, open meadow and that's what they got. The closest thing that could be a forest is more than a mile off in the distance. McCoy thinks he can hear water somewhere, and notices a calm, curving river a few hundred feet away.

"Okay then," Kirk sighs. "Relax, everyone, because _as far as we know_, there's no reason for us to be this jumpy. Stay alert and let's get our jobs done, all right?"

McCoy sticks with Kirk and two of the security guards, as really, they're kind of superfluous to the away team -- McCoy is there to keep Kirk alive, while Kirk is there because he loves the exploring part of the journey.

"So, you ever gonna tell me what Joanna felt was _so_ urgent that she had to call you in the middle of the morning? On a _Sunday_?" Kirk asks. "Sunday's bike day! What's she doing inside calling you?"

"Told you, Jim, she _missed me_, and --" McCoy sighs at how calloused he's become, "She was guilting me into not joining up with you again after this tour. Stay on Earth, be a quiet doctor and father of the year -- which I --"

"Yeah, I tried that on my mom, too," Kirk says. "Just once when I was about ten or so. And I think -- well, I think I knew she'd do it, but I didn't _want her_ to? I don't know. Parents. They're fucked up." He looks at McCoy and grins. "You included. Biggest fuck-up of the bunch."

"That's okay with me. I have a feeling Auntie Jamie will set me straight when I go astray."

"Fuck you," Kirk laughs.

Their group stops walking because Kirk stops walking, and Kirk stops walking because Spock and his group have stopped walking. Kirk runs over to Spock, who seems to be staring at the ground completely frozen.

McCoy arrives at Spock's side and follows Spock's line of vision… to a cat. Of fucking course.

"What's the matter, Spock, didn't you have a kitten growing up?" McCoy asks.

"I had a sehlat," Spock says, though his voice gives the impression of being a thousand miles away from their conversation. "I-Chaya was nearly 12 feet tall when standing on his hind legs."

McCoy catches Kirk staring at the two of them before shrugging the tension off.

"If this wildcat wanted to attack, it probably would have already," Kirk replies as he crouches down to the cat. He extends his hand near its nose and keeps it there. "If he or she is nice, it'll come back up and be Cat 14."

"Goddammit," McCoy sighs. "We ran over here because Spock's afraid of cats?"

"My tricorder reads at least two dozen more of its kind scattered in the high grass," Spock says as one approaches McCoy's calves and rubs against them. There's a strange tingle in his skin as it does so, but the cat wanders off into the grass again before he can analyze it much. "More importantly, I believe these are the life forces which gave me pause when we first landed because --"

And that's when Kirk yells and gets thrown back into the grass. The cat runs off and McCoy and Spock rush over to his still form in the grass. Kirk sits up and stares at them, his mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find words.

"It buzzed me!" he finally says.

"What?" McCoy asks.

"Like -- like a shock, you know, but. _Wow_. Way, _way_ stronger. _Obviously_."

"Indeed," Spock says.

"Well I was worried about you, too, Spock," Kirk grumbles as he stands up. "And if you say 'fascinating' because I was thrown on my ass by a cat -- holy shit, they're _electric cats_!"

"Jim, the cats are what I sensed when we arrived," Spock explains. "That they are capable of emitting disabling shocks like many aquatic species on Earth. Because they are capable of emitting electrical charges, they are also capable of electroreception, as we are, though I suppose my biology --"

"Dammit, Spock --"

"Yes, Doctor, I am aware that you are _a doctor_ and not whatever occupation you believe I was attempting to pin on you."

"Ouch," Kirk laughs. "Okay, but we -- I get it, they're like eels and they shock when threatened. That's definitely something we need to note and study, isn't it?"

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy look pointedly at Lieutenant Stipe the zoologist, who wandered by when Kirk was thrown into the grass.

"Three specimens should be sufficient, Lieutenant," Spock says.

Lieutenant Stipe and two security guards begin stalking the cats for capture and Kirk joins them -- except he succeeds in scaring the cats off and getting shocked four more times before McCoy and Spock have to drag him off to less bioelectricmagnetic pastures, theoretically by the river they saw earlier. (And when they reach those pastures, Kirk will be shocked _another_ three times because the cats by the water are even smaller and more adorable and potent in their charge, and McCoy will howl with laughter until he's shocked, too, and Spock will avoid the cats every time because he'll discover his _passive electroreception_ or some bullshit like that and will toe the cats aside with his boot when they approach him.)

*

McCoy enters sickbay with an animal carrier that contains exactly one (1) electric cat. Chapel greets him with a sigh of, "Dammit," and M'Benga laughs himself into an aneurysm. Lerea sneezes and looks at him with some annoyance.

"Now what are we supposed to do with this?" M'Benga asks as he takes the carrier. "Aside from torture poor Christine?"

"Poor Christine can handle herself, thank you, Doctors."

"It's an electric cat," McCoy says. "There's no one here with any kind of diagnosed heart condition and as long as you keep it away from Christine and Lerea, things should be fine."

"And where's the electric part come in?" M'Benga asks as he peers into the carrier.

"Piss it off and find out." McCoy puts down his tricorder and shouts, "Have fun, everyone!" as he heads out of sickbay and towards the mess.

*

"Bones!" Kirk calls out when he enters the mess. "You have to settle a question for us!"

"Can I get my damn lunch first?"

"NO. IT CAN'T WAIT."

Kirk waits anyway.

He sits down with Kirk and Spock, but Kirk grabs his forearm just as he's about to bite into his first real meal of the day.

"Spock says it would be 'unwise' to let the crew take leave down there for a few hours," Kirk says. "What's your input?"

"What, because of the cats?" McCoy asks Spock. "You saw what they did to Jim -- shocked about a dozen times and he's fine."

"Jim is an exceptionally... fortunate individual," Spock replies. "We do not know enough about the planet at this point."

"But what we do know is that it's mostly harmless during the day, isn't it?"

They look at Kirk, who has on his best thinking face.

"We'll monitor night activity on the planet and see if there's anything that our people could stumble on and upset," Kirk says eventually. "And barring any land sharks, tomorrow we'll get a tent and beam down together and spend the day --"

McCoy takes the time to drown out the conversation that clearly doesn't involve him and finally focus on his damn sandwich, which had called his name tenderly in the back of his mind this entire day. Damn the synthesizers to hell, but he can't deny they generate a decent Monte Cristo.

Fried. Ham. Joanna. _What?_ He'd call again tonight and see how she was doing, whether she actually went out, or if today was the day when she was done with her father and all their silly traditions and inside jokes and he would just be a face on a screen from now on.

No. Something deeper than that, something in his core, in that place he'd call his gut that ached almost constantly because _his child_ was an unfuckingbelievable distance away from him -- she'd never, and he'd never feel like that. They were _family_. They never could.

But could he see himself as that man at school plays and spelling bees? Picking her up from sports practice? Hovering around her as she did her homework?

Maybe not but -- did he _want_ that? _Could_ he do all that?

"You can tune back in, Bones," Kirk says eventually. He's about to take a bite out of his meal when something strikes him and he turns on McCoy again. "You know, me and Spock? We're in this for the long haul. Are you just gonna ignore us every time we're adorable? Haven't you noticed that's pretty much _all the time_?" Kirk looks over at Spock and grins, while Spock gave McCoy a slightly arched eyebrow. What did that even _mean_?

Then he sees the tiniest hint of a twitch at the corner of his mouth and notices Spock's left hand is somewhere under the table.

McCoy groans and takes a bite of his sandwich with his eyes closed while Kirk laughs.

*

Once the preliminary reports come in, the three of them split up and McCoy returns to sickbay to start working on preparations for the next away mission.

It's exceptionally quiet in sickbay with just Lerea and a few of the usual klutzes who managed to injure themselves in their usual duties -- McCoy glances up from his PADD and remembers Lieutenant Marquez, who managed to sprain her wrist while wrangling a cat into a carrier with Lieutenant Stipe.

McCoy looks around and chooses the biobed next to Lerea, who is busy at work on her PADD but slows down her typing once he sits down. "Yes, Doctor?" she asks.

"Oh nothing, nothing," he replies as he reclines on the bed with his PADD. "Just catching up before the next disaster. How about you?"

"Reviewing candidates for a position that has opened in the science department," she says. "Do you expect havoc wreaked in the near future?"

"Have my premonitions of gloom and doom ever not come true?" He looks over and sees her pressing her lips tightly to avoid laughing.

"Christine -- Nurse Chapel --"

"You can call her Christine in front of me."

"_She_ and I have been keeping track of your declarations of 'gloom and doom', as you call them, and how often you are correct."

"How often am I correct, Lieutenant?"

"6.7% of the time."

McCoy stops for a moment and shakes his head. "Nope. Wrong. It's more than that. Gotta be at least 54 times out of ten."

"Perhaps you are right. Your very strong vocalized feelings have an impressive rate of inflation that I failed to take into account when calculating how often you are wrong on any given subject."

"Lerea," McCoy sighs, "You can keep on not using contractions and dropping phrases like 'rate of inflation', but all I got out of that is that you're keeping a file on everything I do or say every time you're in here." He glances over and raises an eyebrow. "Maybe even when you're not here."

She makes a small sound like she's considering it, and they get back to their work. McCoy glances over at her a few more times and she looks even better when she completely ignores him. Her mouth stays open as she works (dammit, that means the hypo for her sinuses has worn off too soon and _why_ does her body want to stop its own breathing?) and her eyes move across her PADD's screen quickly. She makes notes, pushes strands of hair that escaped her intricate braid over the tip of her ear, and looks over at McCoy once to arch an eyebrow at him kind of wryly.

"I apologize, Doctor -- were your reports spontaneously transferred to my PADD without my notice? Can you see them adequately from there?"

"Just watching you breathe, making sure you weren't about to have a bronchial attack," he replies unconvincingly.

"You stare at me because it is medically relevant?" she asks.

McCoy laughs and turns all his attention back to his PADD, ignoring her demands of:

"Doctor, if this is a medical matter, then you are obliged to answer me."

"Doctor, if you do not answer me, I will seek out a second opinion, perhaps from whatever comm addresses are listed on the bathroom walls at the next starbase."

"Dr. McCoy, I have accidentally terminated you from the Enterprise's officers' roster -- you are now sharing a room with three security guards named Shane, Lane, and Dwayne. They are brothers from Manitoba. Please vacate your quarters immediately to make way for a new sexual recreation lounge."

"We already have one," McCoy finally replies. "They're labeled on the plan as 'Captain's quarters.'"

"That was too easy for your intellect."

And where Spock, the other Vulcan eating up most of his waking hours, pushes and pushes him until he's ready to try and land a punch on one of Spock's sharp cheekbones -- Lerea is different. Different from Chapel, too, whose job it is to keep him on his toes, which she does by making herself a giant pain in his ass.

Or maybe Lerea's exactly the same, maybe she's completely average in every possible way, but he's smitten like he hasn't been in _years_ by just about everything she does. Kirk knows and teases him for it, and laments the fact that he has no reason to call his junior personnel officer to the bridge when McCoy's there, but then remembers there's rarely any reason for McCoy himself to be there. That's around the time when Kirk pages Lerea and asks very loudly how goes the top secret search for a new CMO who won't spend every waking hour harassing the captain.

"For a doctor," Lerea says, "And, therefore, a person who should constantly have their attention to matters at hand, you spend an extraordinary amount of time not paying attention to anything at all." McCoy smiles and she adds, "I will have to add that qualification regarding attention to detail to Project Corvus."

Project Corvus or Project Crow being the name Kirk gave their stupid little inside joke because "the new Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise must endeavor to fill each hour at his post with portents of doom, a general air of unpleasantness, and cutting remarks that bring enlisted personnel to their knees and cause them to question all they know."

"You're never gonna find anyone who fits all those qualifications, you know," McCoy says. "You're better off sticking with me. It'll save your department hours of work."

Lerea is about to respond when Sakon, her brother-in-law, strolls into sickbay and heads directly for her. McCoy is fascinated by these Vulcans, the ones who weren't raised in a world of planet-hopping with Dad the Vulcan ambassador, Mom the professor and galactic linguist, and a chip on one's shoulder the size of Beta quadrant. It took McCoy a shamefully long time to realize that Vulcans came in more models than 'uptight asshole' like Spock and his father.

"Good afternoon, Doctor," Sakon says. "How are you?" he asks Lerea.

"The doctor has been preventing me from finishing my work," she informs Sakon. "Have you spoken to Lari today?"

"She sends her affection to us both," Sakon tells her. "And she received her promotion to Camor II."

"Yes, she informed me of that as well."

"How strange -- one would think she held you in some kind of esteem."

"Excuse me, you who were once my brother, I have a great deal of work that requires my attention."

"Doctor," Sakon says over Lerea, "Your patient is experiencing some kind of mental distress and seems to not know her own family."

"She does that," McCoy replies, and he leaves his bed to give them a moment. He stops when a warm hand catches his lightly but firmly. He turns around and gives Lerea a raised eyebrow.

"Are we disturbing your work, Doctor?" she asks.

"I was under the impression you were romantically involved," Sakon interrupts. "Do you always call him 'Doctor'? Should I also begin calling you 'Junior Personnel Officer' according to your position?"

The electric cat that no one had seen for an hour suddenly jumps up on Lerea's bed, which causes her to sneeze immediately. The cat is startled and shocks her, then jumps into Sakon's arms. He strokes the cat once, murmurs something comforting, and the cat hisses in response.

Sakon falls to the ground and the cat skitters away, and then things get _bad_.

*

"Get the defibrillator!" McCoy shouts at Chapel as he and Lerea lift Sakon onto a biobed. M'Benga, technically the doctor on call, rushes in from the adjacent lab and begins setting up the defibrillator that Chapel brings in. "It was the damn cat," McCoy informs him. "I don't think he had a history -- can you --"

"_Yes_, McCoy, I can defib a Vulcan while you check his file, would you go do that already!" M'Benga replies as he charges the unit. "Christine, get the smaller set -- we may have to apply them directly to his heart."

As McCoy steps back and pulls Sakon's medical file on the wall unit, Lerea approaches him and quietly asks, "He has not opened his --"

"It doesn't look good," McCoy replies as he scans the medical history. "You've known him a while, haven't you? As kids? Did this ever happen before?"

"Never," she says. "Doctor --"

"It's been almost three minutes," McCoy announces as he steps away from her and the wall unit. "Did you already inject --"

"Yeah, and nothing," M'Benga replies. "Scalpel, if anything. Get the smaller defibs ready."

*

"Oh…" is all Lerea can say when she sees Chapel switch off the monitors over Sakon's bed. McCoy watches her sit up a bit more in her bed, pull her knees up to her chest and stare at Sakon, a hand lifting to cover her mouth. McCoy watches her and suddenly wonders whether Vulcans have swear words -- whether an 'oh Surak' can be the same as the torrent of swears he would let loose if a _cat_ killed someone he loved right in front of him.

"Doctor," she says and he will be damned if that's not a voice cracking with emotion. "Is there nothing you can do for him -- please -- it has only been a few moments."

"Lerea…"

"No, _Leonard_, you have -- if it were the captain, you would find something, _anything_ to -- is there nothing for him?"

He walks over and takes her hand, the one covering her mouth, in his. She looks up at him slowly and breathes shallowly.

"There was nothing we could do for him," he says in his calmest voice. "Occasionally it happens: something catches the heart between beats and the heart just stops. It's called commotio cordis. The cat's shock --"

"We grew up together, the four of us, he and my sister and I --" She looks away and then glances up at McCoy to add, "My betrothed was lost in the destruction of Vulcan. And now -- what can I tell her?"

Spock enters sickbay and heads for McCoy. Spock's about to start speaking when Lerea interrupts, a rush of Vulcan words leaving her mouth. McCoy's eyes travel from her to Spock, who only lifts an eyebrow slightly and keeps his eyes trained on her.

"I will inform the captain of your loss," Spock interrupts in Standard, "And your sister will be notified by Captain Kirk personally, as protocol dictates he do for every lost crew member of the Enterprise."

McCoy glances at Spock and asks, "So what now? What's the Vulcan thing to do?"

"The 'Vulcan thing'?" Spock asks.

"I figured you'd want to do something -- he's --"

"As a _Vulcan_, I have no connection to this individual," Spock replies. "As a _Vulcan_, we shared a faint telepathic link shared with our entire species, one that is partially a fact of biology but more a result of a societal upbringing to consider actions and words before they impact others, and to sense acutely when injury of any kind is done to others."

"Well forgive me, Spock, for thinking that you might want to say 'bye' or, maybe, have some logical send off for one of the last of your people," McCoy snaps back. "Actually, forgive me for thinking that you might have developed some kind of _emotional connection_ with him in the years you've --"

"I would, Doctor, had you phrased your question in that manner," Spock says. "You did not. You simply assumed that, being of the same species, there would be some --"

"Yeah, I'm an _idiot_ for thinking two members of the same species might have some cultural connections, or that a society as ancient as yours might have _something_ unique to mark the passing of one of its members -- and why are you so goddamn _uppity_ about this to begin with?"

"I am merely calling attention to your impropriety at this time: rather than call on me to handle this matter as first officer of the Enterprise, you first latch on to that which should prove irrelevant."

"It's not _irrelevant_, Spock, when there's twelve thousand of you _left_ in the galaxy," McCoy says. "Cultural preservation -- isn't that one of the reasons you tried to avoid serving on the Enterprise?"

"You steer our discussion away from _your_ misstep in assuming that I would react emotionally to a death before --"

"_I said Vulcan_ \-- is there some _Vulcan_ \--"

"The logical thing to do would be to handle this as first officer and order you to preserve the body in the ship's medical storage until it may be transported to our next arrival point and shipped to the Vulcan colony from there."

"And if it were _you_ here?" McCoy finally shouts. "Would you want something quick and logical instead of marking that you had ever been here _at all_?"

"Being dead, it would hardly be my concern as to what is done with or near or to my physical remains," Spock says with lips so tight and thin they're liable to split any second. "If that is all, Doctor, I believe you and your staff have reports to file marking the passing of Sakon."

"He's a _report_ to you," McCoy says with astonishment, and that's like a punch to the fucking gut if he ever felt one. "Get out of my sickbay. Right now. We'll take care of him. You'll get our report in an hour."

Spock leaves as if McCoy hadn't spoken and the room activity picks up again. He looks at Lerea, still in bed and in shock. She says quietly, "He is an admirable Vulcan. I --"

"Now don't you even think that," McCoy snaps. He sits on the edge of her bed and looks her plain in the face. "Yeah, maybe Vulcans go a little nutty when they don't keep their emotions in check all the time, I get that -- but this is your brother, all right? As good as. Surak says you can't show emotion over _that_?"

"Doctor," she begins and McCoy can see the effort it takes her to swallow the lump in her throat. "May I be excused to my quarters for a brief meditation?"

That wasn't the answer he wanted, though on some level, it was the one he expected.

"Forty minutes, no incense -- doctor's orders."

"Yes, Doctor," she replies.

*

"You made Spock cry!" Kirk yells when he walks into McCoy's office later. "Okay, maybe not cry, but sulk? He is doing some serious sulking and pouting at his station upstairs and it's kind of adorable and _sad_, and what the hell did you do?!"

"Say you and me were the only humans left alive," McCoy says. He puts down his PADD and folds his hands on his stomach. "And I died."

"Your will says I should drink for four days straight and send Jo to medical school -- but we'd be the last two humans alive, so -- anyway, what's your point?"

"Exactly! And if we were strangers, but we were still the only humans left?"

"This doesn't have to do with you thinking Spock gives a shit about that guy who died, right?"

"Wait, what?" McCoy asks.

"Hold on, that was insensitive," Kirk sighs. "I mean, _sorry_, but -- okay, you don't know how much _sex_ and mind melds and fucking _holding_ each other it takes to get like, one smile out of him, and you wanted him to, what? Lead a ritual dance around sickbay and rip his hair out and shit?"

"Hey, Jim, a simple _I grieve with thee_ would have sufficed to acknowledge that someone _died_."

"But who's this 'thee'? It's not _you_. Saying that's my job, it's my ship, _I_ get to say that when I write a note about how _an electric cat_ killed someone's husband and by the way, how am I going to even _say that_?" Kirk drops into the chair across from McCoy's desk and puts a foot up on the edge of the desk. "It's going to be funny one day, right?"

"Maybe just the electric cat part," McCoy sighs. "I have to apologize to that jerk of a husband of yours, don't I?"

"If it makes you feel better," Kirk replies. "No matter what you do, I still have to hear about it."

"Captain to the bridge," Uhura's voice calls out from the wall unit.

"Upside," Kirk says as he gets up. "He's not mad at me anymore! It's all for you now."

Kirk leaves and McCoy follows him out of his office, but doesn't follow him to the bridge. Lerea's back and she's gathering some of her things from her biobed, and McCoy notices her hair redone and tightly braided again. She turns around and her expression is marvelously blank.

"Going somewhere?" he asks.

"Gamma shift began approximately seven minutes ago," she replies. "I will be attending to my work in the lower decks at my desk."

"Look," McCoy begins with a lowered voice, "You've just -- been through a lot today. Take today off; you're allowed, you know, for personal --"

"That will not be necessary," she says in a tone that's not curt like Spock's, but still sharper than he's used to from her. "Sitting in my quarters wallowing in grief would not be logical. Productivity will help."

"_Dammit_," McCoy hisses, "Is that all you people can do? Just forget someone existed or meant something to you and plow on through --"

"'You people'?" Lerea asks, her eyebrows lifting slightly. "Doctor, I believe you forget yourself."

"No, I remember that your _brother_ died not two hours ago and you're already off back to the office like nothing's the matter!"

She doesn't blink and neither does McCoy. She presses her lips together and looks away for a moment, and then back into his face.

"Reports have been filed for Sakon. I have spoken to my sister and informed her of the news. His body will be delivered to her within a week for burial. There is _literally_ nothing left to be done for him, so I will work." She presses her lips together again (dammit, did Malviya ever get her that goddamn balm?) and adds, "I will be available again at Delta shift, should you wish to resume speaking to me in a manner that does not betray your deep-seeded speciesist leanings."

"Now listen --"

"I was much more pleasant to be with when you could forget I was Vulcan."

"You mean when you were _pleasant_? Why is this a fight? Because I thought you --"

"Because you thought I had become sufficiently comfortable in your company to adopt human mourning practices, the…" Lerea pauses and takes a sharp breath as if she's trying to find the words. "The most visceral of emotions come with grief and loss, and that is when being Vulcan is most important."

*

He finds Spock in the biology lab, playing on a computer with two large plastic cases next to him, each with a cat inside. The electric cat hisses angrily at Spock before noticing McCoy and beginning a predatory stalk up and down its case. The ship's cat watches worriedly and backs into the furthest corner as much as it can.

"Doctor," Spock says.

"Spock," McCoy replies. He hesitates for a second and then says, "Well, dammit, I thought you two knew each other at least."

"Yes, we became very close during our secret Vulcan meetings in the shuttle hangar," Spock says dryly. "Next time, I will consult your schedule and send you an invitation."

"You know, it's been three years out here in the _nothing_ of space," McCoy says. "I'd thought we were making progress."

"Doctor, there is nowhere left to progress," Spock says and damn him, he hasn't looked away from his computer screen once.

"Jim wants us to be friends, you know."

"Jim would like unicorns to be real."

Spock continues working at his console and McCoy leans on the counter, staring at the cats and wondering what he's even apologizing for. Asking Spock to show some sympathy? And then Spock had to turn it into a species-related thing, which -- McCoy feels a headache creeping up on him and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You are romantically involved with a Vulcan," Spock says randomly.

"Casually," McCoy replies. "Maybe not even that, seeing as I'm completely… well."

"Intolerant? Imperialistic?" McCoy watches Spock work at the console and notices how completely in control he is as he speaks -- one hand on his PADD and occasionally typing on it, his eyes and the fingers of his other hand on the monitor, the occasional glance to the cats, and the sneaking glimpse to McCoy to ensure he's still listening. McCoy's impressed, no doubt about that.

"I once believed Jim to be the quintessential human, and perhaps he is, but you and he are very different humans," Spock says. "He teases me, but does not attempt to change me. You, however, seem to be suffering under the delusion that Vulcans are simply humans who are unable to 'loosen up', as you would say, and that is not the case."

And there's no… denying it, really, because it's kind of true. Completely true. It's one thing to have a frame of reference to measure experiences, and another to beat someone over the head with said frame until they fit into it perfectly.

"So what should I expect from a grieving Vulcan?" McCoy asks after a moment.

"Were you Vulcan, you would notice nothing," Spock replies. "Even after the destruction of our homeworld, we hesitate to show emotion in front of each other. There was some truth to what you said earlier: we strive to be especially Vulcan before each other now that there are so few of us."

"And since I'm the worst kind of emotional, quick to anger, easily frustrated, loud-mouthed human you know?" McCoy asks.

Spock slows down whatever he's doing as he considers an answer.

"You will hear stories of him," Spock says slowly. "Expressions of disbelief at his absence. Perhaps brief regret at how you did not have the chance of knowing him as she did. You should also share your own stories."

"How about some chocolate?" McCoy asks, and he gets the full on Spock eyebrow treatment for his troubles.

*

McCoy skips dinner with Kirk and everyone for a sandwich in his office in front of the vidscreen -- first an hour getting a transmission through to Atlanta, and then ten minutes fighting with his ex-wife before Joanna appears on screen.

"_Mom_," she whines, her eyes looking at something just off-screen. A door closes somewhere and she looks into the screen. "Hi, Dad!"

"So I see we're doing better."

"Better than what? Oh, this morning! Yeah, everything's fine."

_Lovely_, he thinks briefly, because it wasn't like her blotchy, crying face and accusations of neglect had been gnawing away at his heart any more than usual.

"Tell me about your day. Tell me about tomorrow. What's on the agenda?"

"Nothing special. I did ride my bike like, really really far, Dad, and we're going to do that next time you're here," and she nonchalantly pushes a chunk of hair over her ear as she thinks. "And I went to a friend's house, you know Rainie? Her parents are getting divorced and she thinks her mom might take her all the way to _Pallas_."

"It happens," he says neutrally.

"Yeah," she replies. "And tomorrow I have a report due on some math equation that's so easy -- I messaged Chekov about it and --"

"Wait," McCoy interrupts. "You messaged _Chekov_? Our Chekov? On the ship?"

"Yeah! He's like a math genius, right? Anyway, it totally made sense after he showed me so I'm going to get an awesome grade on that, and then after school --"

McCoy glances down at his PADD and considers adding _kill Chekov_ to his to-do list for tomorrow.

"How was your day, Dad?" Joanna asks eventually.

"Hmm, my day," he begins. "Should I start with exploring planet Abby, or the electric cats, or how every Vulcan on the ship thinks I hate them and want them to be humans?"

"Your girlfriend, too?"

"Yup."

"Did you say sorry?"

"Not yet," McCoy replies. "She's still at work for another… four hours."

"_So_? Don't be a jerk, Dad."

"You enjoy being nine while you still can," he laughs. "I don't think things will be that easy ever again."

"Uh, saying sorry is really easy," she replies. "Oh, like, see: I'm sorry I said mean things to you this morning. If you love space, you should stay in space."

And for Joanna, it really is that simple: he either loves space or her, one more than the other, and how can he explain it's not one or the other but -- everything each of them is. Earth has Joanna but too many people who loathe him and set out to make his existence miserable, and space doesn't have Joanna but a whole lot of people who haven't staged a coup yet and have some need for him.

"I love you," he says. "More than all of space and more than life itself, okay? And you need to remember that."

"Okay. I love you, too."

"Okay, good. We're on the same page, the one where we love each other. Now don't you have homework? What kind of school is your mother sending you to?"

"Actually, the ice cream place just opened for the summer so Mom's taking me," Joanna says excitedly. "If anyone's having a milkshake, I'll take a picture and send it to you, okay? Do they still taste like glue where you are?"

"More like plaster now. Have fun, okay?"

"Okay. I'll tell Mom you said hi and --"

"Oh, we said hi already. Don't even _worry_ about that."

Joanna rolls her eyes at the screen, but then gives him a smile. "All right, I'm going. Night, Dad."

"Night, Jo."

*

McCoy hovers behind Lerea's seat in the lower decks for a moment and places a vegetarian tray on the console next to her right hand. She glances at it and then spins around in her chair, looking up at him a little impatiently and coldly. Or something. Nothing in her face says, _I'm happy to see you, please take me in your arms and whisk me far away! Like your bed, maybe!_

Then again, he didn't really expect that to happen. Still, it would have been nice.

"What are you doing after this shift?" he asks. "I've got some apologizing to do, and figure we might have some talking to do."

"You may apologize here as well as anywhere else."

He smirks at her a little and says, in his kindly performative voice, "I'm sorry for attempting to impose my human standards on your Vulcan behavior, and I'll try to avoid these cultural misunderstandings in the future with your assistance, Lerea." He hesitates for a moment, but then adds, "Also, I'm sorry for your loss."

She doesn't say "apology accepted" or "fantastic" or "yes, that's good" or "I'll leave with you now" (seriously, if he could really impose just _one_ human trait on Vulcan behavior, it's getting past second base before he's collecting his pension, _please_.)

Instead, she asks, "Did you speak to Commander Spock about this matter?"

"Spock and I have a little unofficial deal worked out," he replies. "He tells me when I'm being a jackass and culturally insensitive to you, and I help him understand the captain. You know, as well as _anyone_ can understand the captain."

"This is a logical agreement you have come to," she says. "It must be extremely recent, considering your previous blunders in the area."

"And it'll be extremely short-lived if you keep playing the sass card."

He looks down, thinking a ship's cat has wandered by to lend its cuteness to the smoothing over of all this -- instead, he sees the toe of Lerea's pointed boot rubbing against his ankle. He looks at her with a raised eyebrow and her foot goes a little higher before retreating completely.

"Okay, you get two more sass cards," McCoy laughs.

"I apologize," she says, and she grabs her PADD and begins scrolling through some document. "I am usually very caught up with ship-wide correspondence, but I cannot find the memo which declared you the sole holder and purveyor of these 'sass cards'."

"You know, I don't need this aggravation."

"No, but you enjoy it." She looks over her shoulder to the console and says, "Thank you for the tray. Perhaps I may see you in the mess hall for a morning meal."

"0800 sound good?"

"That would be adequate."

"Just adequate?"

His comm goes off and it's Kirk's very distinctive _I'm such a professional_ voice paging him to sickbay. He waits for something else, but Lerea simply looks at him for another moment and then turns back to her console. He figures she's still upset, at him and at _everything_, so he tries to not think about what else the cold farewell means as he heads over to the turbolift.

*

"-- and then the electroreception field that Spock detected," Kirk is explaining to Chapel and M'Benga, "Like, if Spock stands really still with the cat and the cat gets agitated, shit happens between their charges and Spock's hair stands up on its ends."

"That doesn't sound like real science," M'Benga says. "I mean, I know what you're saying, but I don't think 'shit happens between their charges' is how a textbook would put it."

"What do you know, medicine man?" Kirk asks.

"He's so right," M'Benga informs Chapel. "Just us doctors here, bumbling around and not doing much of anything."

"I'm sorry, were you saying something?" Chapel asks. "My ovaries were screaming so loudly at the word 'cat', I couldn't hear much else."

"Wow, why do I come here. Ever. Bones!" Kirk shouts as McCoy stops hovering in the doorway to his own damn sickbay. "_That's_ why I come here." McCoy stands by the biobed Kirk is sitting on and smiles a little at Chapel and M'Benga as they go back to working on things. "Wait. How long has it been since I've seen you? You skipped dinner! We missed you _ a lot_."

"Who's we?" McCoy asks.

"Well, _everyone_. Hey, did you know Chekov was putting the moves on Jo?"

"He _told you_ that?" McCoy asks.

"Not exactly, but he was asking how old she was and whether she's -- dammit, what's the phrase he used -- 'of a similar temperament to the doctor.'"

"I'm going to kill that kid," McCoy says. "I thought Sulu was in love with him."

"Totally is," Kirk sighs. "If only they'd stop using shore leave to have sex with random hot aliens and see that, really, what they're looking for? It's been there the whole time."

"Yenta Kirk, stay out of my life, okay?"

"Just you wait until you see the ensign I found for Rand. We're all going to be one big happy incestuous family."

McCoy gnaws on his lower lip for a moment and asks, "Did you come here for a drink? Because I'm going to have a really, really big drink and maybe you'd like to join me."

"I'm shocked that you think I came here for anything but your sparkling wit," Kirk replies. He hops off the biobed and follows McCoy to his office in the back. "But if you're having a drink, I'll take a bathtub-sized shot of whatever you're having."

"What? How could _you_ have had a bigger clusterfuck of a day than I did? I don't believe it."

"Please, clusterfuck. You fought with your girlfriend and now everyone know what a big speciesist you are." Kirk drops into the chair in front of McCoy's desk and says, "You have _no_ idea what kind of day I've had."

McCoy slides a glass over to Kirk and settles into his own chair. They clink their glasses, sip, and McCoy exhales deeply for what feels like the first time all day. He glances at Kirk, who takes another sip and meets McCoy's eyes and smirks.

"You were saying?" McCoy asks.

"Right, right, so -- I told you about how it all started with a cockblocking, right?"

McCoy groans and says, "Move on already, what about --"

"Doctor," Spock says and McCoy nearly spits his whiskey back into his glass because Spock is just _there_ and, frankly, looking a little harried and static-y. "Jim."

"Join us for a drink?" McCoy asks as Kirk vacates his chair for the edge of McCoy's desk instead.

"Alcohol does not --"

"The sharing of some unpleasantly flavored liquid with some friends might make you feel better," McCoy interrupts. "This party'd be a little different if we were here to obliterate ourselves."

"Indeed," Spock murmurs.

Kirk holds out his glass to Spock, and they exchange this look that's loaded with tons of shit McCoy can't and probably doesn't want or need to understand. He pours Kirk another glass, but looks to Spock. "Jim was about to tell me about his day," McCoy says. Kirk winces and Spock looks from McCoy to Kirk.

"Indeed," he repeats. "I would be fascinated to hear your account, Jim, and perhaps add commentary and notes on accuracy for the doctor."

Kirk turns around and holds his glass out to McCoy. "Can I get this with tranquilizers?"

"No. Now shut up and tell your story."

"How can --"

"I will begin," Spock says.

"No!" Kirk shouts. "Fine, okay, like I said, it started with _the cockblocking_ of ages."

"I would like to interject --"

"My day, my story!"

"-- And remind you of the _socks_ which have reappeared on the floor --"

"Maybe if you just stopped looking at the damn socks and focused on _me_, we wouldn't --"

" -- When I have repeatedly asked you --"

McCoy sips quietly as they fight, trying to let the whiskey quiet the mixed annoyance and glee he feels at the ridiculous scene in front of him. He briefly realizes this will start all over again in less than eight hours and surreptitiously pours another bit into his glass.


End file.
